


Elevator Confessions

by MatchaVanilla



Series: Elevators and Espionage [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Hint of romance, Modern AU, One-Shot, Stuck on an elevator, confessions are made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 12:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaVanilla/pseuds/MatchaVanilla
Summary: He could tell that she wasn't happy sharing the elevator with him, but it would only be for another moment or two. Or so he thought, before the damn thing broke down between the sixth and seventh floor. How long would they be stuck here??





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an anonymously-submitted Tumblr writing prompt!

It had been a _very_ long board meeting.

 

Zuko had known, from the very beginning, that taking over the crumbling empire that was his father's once multi-million-dollar company and dragging it out of complete and utter ruin would be hard work. He wasn't afraid of hard work; that was what had gotten him this far, after all. Nor had he underestimated the difficulties involved in saving the company; of which there were many.

 

No, what he had actually _overestimated_ was his ability to deal with bullshit.

 

Massaging his temples and staring at the neglected paperwork on his desk, Zuko sighed heavily, remembering idiotic proposal after idiotic proposal. With suggestions like that floating around it was no wonder the company had been so deep in the red; not to mention that their reputation had gone to shit.

 

 _Who in the hell could seriously think that laying off the entire pipeline maintenance crew was a good idea?_ The very first sign of a problem - usually diagnosed and addressed within the hour - would go untreated and worsen, leading to a PR disaster, economic and ecological destruction, and a massive headache for him. _I should have restructured when I had the chance,_ Zuko realized. Maybe it wasn't too late?

 

Speaking of "too late"... the watch on his wrist informed him that it was well past time to clock out for the day. This time, Zuko's sigh was one of relief. Corporate executive, he might be, but he had been spending far too much time engrossed in work lately. All work and no play, as the saying went.

 

Packing away his papers in record time, Zuko grabbed his suitcase and strode across the room, pausing just as he reached for the door knob. To his left, he knew, was a mirror hanging on the wall. He'd put it there in a defiant act of self-esteem, which he regretted more often than not.

 

 _My scar does not define me_ , Zuko told himself stubbornly, even as he stared straight at the wooden door, _I am not worthless. I am not a frightened teenage boy. My father has no hold over me._ To prove it, he turned his head to the left, meeting his gaze in the reflective glass surface.

 

It was still there, of course. Just as it had been for the past twelve years; since he'd been a scrawny fifteen-year-old. The burn that marred his face.

 

Sometimes, Zuko could look beyond the scar. He was fairly handsome, he thought... or at least he wasn't ugly. When he managed a decent smile, he even thought that its warmth eclipsed the burn marks.

 

Other times, he could only see the reminder that he was worthless and that his father had despised him.

 

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Zuko turned away. There was no sense dwelling on the past... Twisting the knob and pushing the door open, he left the safety of his office; though, it was late enough that many of the employees had already gone home for the day and wouldn't be around to gawk.

 

Mostly they treated him with respect, at least to his face. Many bid him a goodnight on his way past, which Zuko returned quickly or else nodded in acknowledgement. He had no idea what they said when he wasn't around to hear, but he didn't really want to know either. Zuko felt that his job was to make sure that they still had jobs at the end of the quarter; if he was doing his job and they were doing theirs, that was what mattered.

 

Or so he told himself.

 

Shaking that treasonous thought off as well, Zuko reached out once again, moodily punching the Call Elevator button. He was ready to go home and sleep for a week, but eight o'clock came all too early and all too often. It was only Tuesday...

 

The elevator arrived with a pleasant chime to announce its presence, interrupting the downward spiral of thoughts in Zuko's head. He stepped into its well-lit and inviting space, pushing the button for the bottom floor without thought. As the doors began to slip shut, he nearly sighed with relief once again.

 

"Wait, please!" called a feminine voice, "Hold the elevator!"

 

Automatically, Zuko reacted. Before the elevator could close its doors and leave him isolated from the rest of the world, he jabbed at the Open Doors button, stopping it just in time. Slowly, the doors shifted apart and a familiar young woman stumbled in.

 

She was the official liaison from the Environmental Protection Agency, unless he missed his guess. Zuko had seen her - Katara, her name was - several times before, both in meetings and around the office in general. She had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, as he recalled, because of how the previous CEO had completely disregarded environmental concerns. Not that Zuko could blame her.

 

Unless he was mistaken, she was also engaged to the President, of all people.

 

At the moment, Katara was brushing her hands down her jeans - she wore _jeans_ to work… though they were well fitted and went decently with her blazer - and fixing her hair, smoothing down errant strands. It was only when she glanced up at him that her smile faded.

 

"Oh," She began, her tone gone cold, sounding obviously disappointed to see what company she had to endure on her way down, "Thank you, for holding the door." Katara always seemed to be veiling burning hatred with an icy-thin layer of politeness, around him.

 

Zuko nodded, speaking half a beat too late to avoid the awkward silence growing between them, "You're welcome." He had to fight the urge to escape before the doors slid shut, trapping them both inside the elevator together. This was going to be the longest descent of his life.

 

Rather than stand beside him, as she might have done with anyone else, Katara moved to the opposite side of the elevator and crossed her arms over her chest, posture closed off and unwelcoming. Zuko wasn't about to push. He wasn't that stupid. Contrary to popular belief.

 

So, the young CEO simply stood against the elevator wall, trying not to look as though he were nervous and trying not to cause any further offense to the young woman. He had just glanced at his watch – more for something to direct his attention at, than anything else – when there was a loud, ominous grinding sound, followed by a slight tremor that shook the small elevator box.

 

“…What was that?” Katara asked, voice layered with apprehension.

 

Before Zuko could even admit that he didn’t know what had caused the noise, it returned with a vengeance, throwing the elevator to a sudden and definite standstill. Then, there was silence. It lay heavily in the air between himself and Katara, as each glanced around in trepidation, both hoping that the elevator would start to move again, and fearing that it would – badly.

 

Finally, after a moment or two, the CEO spoke softly, “I think we’re stuck.”

 

He hadn’t meant that, exactly. What he had actually meant was that the elevator probably wouldn’t drop them down the remaining six stories to the ground floor and then down another two stories into the basement parking lot, where they would land with a _crunch_. He meant that the grinding noise had probably been the sound of the turbines jamming up, trapping them between the sixth and seventh floor. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what he had managed to say.

 

So, Katara snorted. “No shit, Sherlock,” she snapped hotly, in a rare show of open hostility that made Zuko flinch.

 

Rather than speak again, Zuko reached out, jabbing a finger at the bright red _Call Help_ button on the elevator control panel. That was what it was for, after all; calling for help when something malfunctioned. Unfortunately, there was no immediate evidence that pressing said _Help_ button did anything at all.

 

“…Well, that was helpful,” Katara snipped again, just before the inert light above the elevator control panel turned on, shocking her to silence. It was red and vaguely disconcerting; each of the trapped passengers stared up at it, expressions uncertain. It then proceeded to flash, bathing both their tense faces in an intermittent, crimson light.

 

That was it, though. It didn’t seem to please Katara. She shifted her document folders, holding them under one arm, and dug into her jeans’ pocket. Extracting her cellphone, she flipped the ancient model open – seriously? A _flip phone_ , in this day and age? – and punched at the buttons. “…It’s dead,” she announced, frowning down at the device before switching her ire to Zuko once again, “Well?”

 

After a split second’s confusion, Zuko realized that she wanted him to try his phone. “Oh,” he blinked, reaching into his own pocket, where his phone always resided. Except today, apparently. “I… don’t have it,” Zuko admitted slowly, almost sheepishly, “I must have left it in the office.”

 

“ _Great_ ,” Katara groused sarcastically, shoving her dead phone back into her pocket.

 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Zuko gave an awkward smile. “Then… I suppose we wait for rescue,” he mused aloud, reaching up to loosen his tie nervously. He didn’t have a fear of enclosed spaces, exactly, but being stuck in an elevator with someone who obviously hated his guts wasn’t Zuko’s idea of a good time. Especially when he could be at home, disassociating to shitty television programming.

 

“ _Fantastic_ ,” Katara said again, in much the same tone as before, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

 _She must not handle stress well_ , Zuko mused again, this time keeping his thoughts to himself. It was either that, or the young woman really did just hate him _that_ much. Neither would surprise him, at this point.

 

For the first half-hour that they were stuck, they stood awkwardly, trying not to look at one another. The next half-hour after that, Zuko had set his briefcase aside, discarded his formal jacket, and rolled up his sleeves; it was hot in the elevator. Katara followed his example, taking off her blazer and setting her stack of folders down on top of it. An entire hour later, they were both sitting – Zuko cross-legged and Katara with her knees drawn up to her chest, hugging them close – and staring off into space.

 

The silence was starting to get to him. Finally, Zuko had to say something. _Anything_.

 

“I wanted to be a mechanic,” he spoke suddenly into the silence, trying to ignore Katara’s expression when she looked up, bathed in the blinking red light, “When I was a kid, I mean. I never wanted to take over the family business.”

 

There was a pause, and it spoke volumes. “ _Why_ are you telling me this?” Katara asked, only after the silence had drawn out into unprecedented levels of awkwardness.

 

Zuko shrugged, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. “I - …I don’t know,” he admitted, “Someone should know, I guess. And we’re… stuck.” The young CEO knew that he’d failed, though. Why had he tried to initiate a conversation, anyway? It wasn’t as though being stuck together in an elevator was a bonding experience. He was just being stupid.

 

After that, it seemed like another half hour had passed, before something happened.

 

“When I was sixteen, I wanted to be a dancer,” Katara spoke softly, “I had one of those ribbons – the ones that flutter through the air like they’re weightless – and I loved dancing with it.”

 

He was almost afraid to say a word, in case the sound of his voice broke the fragile spell that had apparently woven between them in the stranded elevator… but Zuko just couldn’t ignore what Katara had confided in him. “Why did you change your mind?” He asked, trying to keep his own voice as soft as hers had been.

 

Humming softly, Katara shifted, stretching her legs out and then tucking them beneath her, getting comfortable again. “I didn’t like the way people treated me,” she answered, “Like I was stupid, just because I wanted to dance. I hated the way they looked down on me.”

 

“Those people were stupid,” Zuko spoke almost immediately, but he glanced away, embarrassed, when Katara shifted her gaze to him.

 

“I know that, now,” Katara agreed, “But back then… it bothered me.” Then, in an unprecedented display of interest in Zuko, she asked, “Why did you change your mind about being a mechanic?”

 

When he looked back, out of the corner of his eyes, Zuko saw that she was looking right at him. It made him more nervous than ever. In the end, he decided to be totally honest. “I didn’t, really,” he told her, awkwardly fidgeting with his watchband, “It was… assumed, that I would be in the family business, as would my sister.”

 

That part of his family history was pretty infamous and well televised – how his sister had gone insane and his father had tried to destroy everything in the name of wealth and power – so Zuko didn’t bother trying to hide it. Katara would know, of course.

 

“Why did you go along with it, if you didn’t want to be part of it?” Katara persisted, her brows knit together in confusion.

 

Zuko sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew that she wasn’t trying to bait him; she sincerely didn’t understand. Not that he knew her that well, but Katara was obviously strong and very opinionated – in a good way. It was just… Fighters didn’t understand survivors.

 

“Because,” he mumbled, almost hoping that she wouldn’t hear him, “When I told him what I wanted, my father reacted…. Badly.” Zuko subconsciously lifted a hand, brushing at the raised skin under his left eye, where the burns had marred his face.

 

He didn’t see Katara’s eyes widen in sudden realization.

 

That part of the story hadn’t been well publicized. When Zuko had stepped in to salvage the company, after the fallout, the media had raised dozens of questions about his scar and – when ignored – they had made dozens of theories. None had been quite the truth, but a few had come close. Now, Katara knew. Zuko was too afraid to look at her; he didn’t want to see her expression.

 

“I am so sorry,” She whispered from her side of the elevator, “I had no idea…”

 

Zuko shook his head, but he still didn’t look. “It’s okay,” he assured her easily, “You didn’t know.” Then, with a rather pathetic attempt at a smile, he added, “It’s not something I talk about often, but I guess being stuck in an elevator for a few hours is quite the bonding experience.” He hoped that didn’t freak her out.

 

It evidently hadn’t been the right thing to say, regardless. Katara went quiet, and silence stretched between them once again, heavy with newfound knowledge. It was almost painful.

 

He shouldn’t have told her, Zuko decided. It was too much to entrust to someone, especially without warning. No wonder she didn’t know what to say. Katara had already disliked him; now she probably thought he was really pathetic. Just like he did.

 

Zuko was so lost in his self-depreciating thoughts that he almost didn’t hear Katara break the silence.

 

“I don’t love him,” She said quietly and almost a little dazedly, as if she’d been lost in her own thoughts and surprised into speaking them aloud.

 

It made Zuko do a double-take. “What?” He asked, looking over at Katara for the first time since he’d averted his gaze in embarrassment, “What did you say?” There was no way that he’d heard that correctly.

 

Before she answered him, Katara took a deep breath. “I said that I don’t love him,” She repeated, looking up and meeting Zuko’s eyes, “My fiancé.” Then, clarifying, “I mean, I love him – he’s great, and everything – but I’m not… _in love_ with him.”

 

Oh shit… What could he even say to that? Zuko felt his thoughts swimming in shock. What should he say? What was the _right_ thing to say? He had to say _something_.

 

“Then… why are you with him?” He asked, before closing his eyes tightly, immediately wishing that he could take those words back. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

Katara didn’t snap at him, but she did sigh, then laugh mirthlessly, once. “Very funny,” she mumbled, before taking a deep breath, the sarcastic wall crumbling, “It’s just… when he asked me, I didn’t really know what to say. Then, everyone seemed to expect it of me. He’s the president. He’s a great guy. He’s just…”

 

Zuko waited, but when she didn’t continue, he suggested, “Not the right guy?”

 

“Yeah,” Katara agreed softly, giving a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “He’s just not the right guy, for me. Does that make me a terrible person?”

 

_Oh shit. What to say, what to say…_

 

“I think,” he began slowly, before he’d even really decided what words to use, “That love – romantic love – isn’t something you choose to feel.” Yeah, that sounded right. Okay, don’t panic. “I think that… you either feel it, or you don’t. And it’s not your fault, if you do… or if you don’t. It – it doesn’t make you a terrible person,” Zuko finished, somewhat lamely. Hopefully he’d gotten his thoughts across properly.

 

At the very least, Katara didn’t surge to her feet and start shouting at him. Or hit him. In fact, she looked pensive, mulling his words over.

 

Clearing his throat, Zuko decided to go for broke, since it seemed that he was actually voicing his thoughts properly, for once. “For what it’s worth,” he prefaced, just in case, “I think that, sometimes, you have to do what will make you happy.” Crap, that wasn’t quite it. Trying not to balk, Zuko continued doggedly, “Sometimes, I think you have to prioritize your own happiness, over what’s expected of you. I wish that I had done that sooner, myself.”

 

When he glanced over at her again, he saw that Katara was staring at him. “Uh – sorry,” Zuko apologized, worried that he’d said something to offend. Again.

 

To his surprise, she smiled. “No, it’s okay,” Katara assured him, “You’re… probably right.” Reaching up, she ran a hand through her long brunette hair, “Thank you, for that.”

 

Zuko’s heart began to race in his chest. He was right? That was the last thing he expected to hear. And her sincere smile was the last thing he expected to see. It was beautiful.

 

“I owe you an apology, Zuko,” Katara continued, “I thought you were just some… stupid, spoiled rich boy who took over his crooked father’s company to sweep all the past misdeeds under the rug and do even worse things as quietly as possible, just to make more money.”

 

 _Ouch_.

 

“But I was wrong about all that,” she smiled at him, her eyes almost sparkling with humor, “You definitely don’t seem like a heartless, money-obsessed jerk.”

 

Zuko didn’t know what to say. “Um – thanks,” he settled on, finally, and he hoped that he wasn’t blushing like an idiot, “I, uh, try not to be. A heartless, money-obsessed jerk, I mean.” Reaching up, he scratched awkwardly at his unscarred cheek, “I think that most people have the wrong idea about me, anyway. You’re not the only one.”

 

That was quite possibly the most awkward thing to come out of his mouth all day. It completely stopped their conversation, letting silence fall between them once again. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

 

He knew, from countless experience, that opening up about himself and his… shit, for lack of a better term, was the easiest way to shut people down. Why had he done that? Again? Zuko mentally berated himself, for daring to hope that this one time would be different. Such an _idiot_.

 

“How long has it been, now?” Katara asked him suddenly, interrupting Zuko’s inner dialogue as she glanced up at the flashing red emergency light, “It feels like forever. Do you think they’re trying to get us out?”

 

With a glance at his watch, the young CEO hummed thoughtfully. “Almost three hours,” he answered her first question, before moving on to the second, “They must still be trying to fix the pulley, or we’d be hearing them in the elevator shaft.” Giving a slight grin, Zuko added, “First thing I’m going to do is commission newer elevator boxes, with two-way communication. It’d be a lot easier to wait, if we knew what was going on.”

 

That made Katara laugh. “I was wondering about that,” she admitted, “Why have such old-fashioned elevators in such a nice corporate office? I guess the budget didn’t allow for emergency preparation?”

 

Zuko’s smile became a little less withdrawn, at her joking. “Right?” he joked back, giving a soft laugh as well, “These things must have been here since my grandfather’s time, to not even have one-way communications installed.” He knocked lightly on the wall, “Ancient.”

 

At the light knock, the elevator shuddered and groaned. Zuko and Katara stiffened, each grabbing for the side railing when the box creaked and descended a rather sudden, heart-stopping foot.

 

“Don’t _do_ that!” Katara scolded frantically, voice filled with terror as she moved toward Zuko, clutching at his white button-up shirt, “I’d rather be stuck than - …” She trailed off, unwilling to continue. Her breath was shallow and fast – thanks to the sudden surge of adrenaline.

 

“Sorry,” Zuko apologized immediately, his own voice tense with apprehension and his own adrenaline rush, “Sorry. I didn’t think it would… _do_ anything.” He reached for Katara’s arm, holding gently, “It’s okay; I think it stopped.”

 

Famous last words.

 

Without warning, the elevator creaked to life once again, starting to drop. Katara let out a scream, grabbing for Zuko with both hands now, terrified. She shut her eyes tightly, fearing the worst. The young CEO tensed, hoping that he could somehow cushion the impact… when he realized that they weren’t really going all that fast.

 

“Hey,” he murmured, trying to draw Katara’s attention, “I think they fixed it.” Then, his voice a little lighter, he shook the young woman gently, “Look, Katara.”

 

Slowly, Katara opened her eyes, glancing around. It was only then that either of them even noticed, but the red emergency light had finally stopped flashing. “I – I think you’re right,” she agreed, carefully loosening her grip on Zuko’s shirt, “Oh, thank goodness… I thought –” Swallowing nervously, Katara looked back at him.

 

“Me too,” Zuko admitted, his voice a little thick, “But we’re okay.” At that, he smiled, even as his chest remained tight. Things would go back to normal, now, with Katara hating him and Zuko avoiding everyone. Even if he knew her secret, that didn’t make them… anything. Not friends, not more. Even if she knew his secrets too.

 

It had been nice to pretend, for a little while.

 

Now that they were moving, Katara detached herself slowly, moving to reclaim her jacket and her document folders. She fixed her appearance in silence, so Zuko did the same. He didn’t bother unrolling his sleeves, but he donned his jacket and straightened up, trying to look as though he hadn’t been sitting on the floor for the past hour.

 

Then they stood, side by side in front of the elevator’s double doors, waiting to be released from their three-hour prison. “Well,” Katara quipped lightly, watching the numbers on the elevator drop from four to three, “That was quite a bonding experience.”

 

Zuko blinked, then turned to look at her, confused. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed, a slow smile curving his lips, “I guess it was.”

 

“Next time,” she turned to look at him in turn, a very slight smirk on her face, “Let’s just meet up for coffee.”

 

“Agreed,” Zuko laughed, his gaze returning to the closed elevator doors, thinking that coffee would be a much better alternative to being trapped in a small, enclosed space for two hours and sharing deepest secrets, followed by a sudden brush with death and eventual rescue. Then again, almost anything would be a better alternative to that.

 

Then, her words caught up with him.

 

“…Next time?” His heart pounded.

 

“Yeah. I’d like to get to know you better, Zuko. You’re… pretty interesting, once you stop quoting statistics and company policies.”

 

“Oh. I’d – I’d like that. Getting coffee, I mean. I’ll buy, even.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He could hear the smile in her voice, though he tried so hard not to look, in case he was wrong.

 

He looked.

 

Katara was smiling, her eyes warm.

 

Zuko blushed, unable to look away, even when the doors opened and activity surrounded them.

 

Her smile was… breathtaking.


End file.
